The Life, Times, and Diary of Ginny Weasley
by WritingRamblingRavenclaw
Summary: 28 July, 1995. 6:37 pm. I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, thirteen years of age, precisely five feet tall, and the littlest Weasley in both respects, have reached a new all time low.


**A/N: I officially have fan fiction ADD. Arg. I feel really guilty for posting this…b/c I cannot promise regular updates at all, so… anyway, This story is based on the life, times, and diary of one, Ginevra Molly Weasley, her final four years of Hogwarts, and her not-quite romance with our favorite thick-headed hero. It starts with the summer of OotP and goes on from there. I really love Ginny, and I wanted to delve into her perspective for awhile, so here goes. Reviews are appreciated. Long reviews are love, love, LOVED. Reviews that are constructive and give me something to think about are cherished forever. **

28 July, 1995 

_6:37 pm_

I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, thirteen years of age, five feet tall, and the littlest Weasley in both respects, have reached a new all time low. You may recall my last all-time low, which involved a cherub, a singing card, and one, Harry James Potter. Alas, I was young and foolish then; but now, I am… still quite foolish, and while slightly older I must admit that I am still quite young as well. My still quite foolishness became clear earlier today; when I did something so foolish that I'm still having trouble accepting that I've actually done it- I've asked Hermione Granger for advice on how to get her very best friend to notice the littlest Weasley.

Hermione Granger is supposed to be the most brilliant witch of her age. Our age, I suppose, although as Ron has pointed out to me several thousand times, I am not of their age and I never will be. Anyway, as Lupin keeps pointing out at dinner to various members of the Order who are not acquainted with Hermione, she is the most brilliant witch of her age, which, currently, is fifteen years old.

Besides being brilliant, Hermione is also, as I have previously mentioned, one of the best friends of Harry James Potter, who is only fourteen years old, though not for much longer. Her other best friend, of course, is my _brother, _who fancies her something awful though he seems to think he hides it well. So there's another thing; someone fancies her, even if it is my brother, who happens to be the biggest prat on the earth. More importantly, though, she really _knows _Harry, knows him like Ron knows him, like Sirius knows him, like I wish I knew him…Also, as I've mentioned, she's brilliant. So if anyone would know exactly how one would go about getting Harry James Potter to take notice of her, it would be Hermione Granger.

And so I asked her. Last night, when we were alone in that room we share because Number 12 Grimmauld Place is dark and creepy and no one wants to be all alone. We were sitting cross-legged on our creaky, moth-eaten twin beds, playing with Crookshanks and discussing our could-be-considered-boyfriends, Viktor Krum and Michael Corner, when the opportunity presented itself.

"Ron acts like it's something disgusting, of course, but Harry's been quite nice about the whole thing." She said, smiling slightly. Personally, I think she's pleased that Ron's so quick to hate Viktor. She fancies him quite as much as he does her, though she's a bit less obvious about it. "He's rubbish with girls, of course, but at least he knows how to treat his friends." She sighed, pressing her hands over her eyes. I knew she was missing him right now, worrying and wondering if he's okay. We all are, of course, and I wanted to say something comforting but instead I said what happened to come to mind at that moment, which was,

"Harry's rubbish with girls?" Because although I had an inkling of this, to hear it confirmed by Hermione Granger was important.

Hermione laughed. "_Honestly, _Ginny. Didn't you see him trying to find a Yule Ball date?"

I laughed too, a little nervously, but a laugh nonetheless. After that I was silent for a moment, and Hermione observed me, her brown eyes thoughtfully surveying my freckled face as if she's trying to find a particular passage from a page in a book. A moment of this went by before she spoke, a knowing smile on her face.

"You really like him a lot, don't you, Ginny?" she asked me, with that same kind, slightly patronizing expression.

I blinked at her somewhat awkwardly, and I could feel my face turning scarlet as it always does in such situations. I bit my lip, shrugged my shoulders, and slowly nodded. "You could say that, yeah."

She smiled again, and continued to study me. I, personally, think that Hermione Granger studies so much that sometimes she can't help it. Even if it's the middle of summer and her only studying material is a blushing Ginny Weasley.

"Well, then." Hermione said briskly, "there are a few things you should know." 

---

"Harry," Hermione began, "is probably the best friend I've ever had. He's loyal, and kind, and a truly wonderful person, Ginny- but as far as girls go, Harry couldn't see a good thing if-"

"If it was related to his best friend." I muttered, trying not to look as miserable about the whole thing as I felt.

"_Exactly._" Hermione paused, studying my face again. "He's not purposely hurting you, Ginny."

"I know." I said quietly. _It only feels as though he's deliberately stomping on my heart, but that's a small comfort in my opinion…_

"He- he just- he doesn't notice things."

"He doesn't notice _me._"

I regretted saying it immediately, because Hermione's face automatically filled with pity, and pity is one thing that I simply can't stand.

"Harry just realized that he was famous four years ago." Hermione said kindly, "and if Harry hates anything, it's being famous for that night. Think about it, Ginny; his parents died that night, and he doesn't even remember it, but everywhere he goes, people remind him of it. He doesn't like the idea of people liking him because he's famous."

"That's not why I like him, though!" I said quickly, hoping to Merlin that everyone doesn't think that of me. Hoping that _he _doesn't think that of me.

"I'm not sure Harry realizes that, though." She told me gently. "He doesn't even know you, Ginny, because whenever he's around, you…"

"Act like a completely psychotic fan girl?" I offered dryly.

"I wasn't going to say that." Hermione said, kind as always. "You're just a little quiet, and that's why he doesn't take notice."

"But what would make him take notice?" I blurted, then immediately blushed.

"Talk." She said simply.

"Talk." I tried not to roll my eyes, but couldn't quite help myself. And here I thought Hermione Granger was the most brilliant witch of her age. The most sage advice she could possibly come up with- _talk? _

"I wouldn't expect Harry to decide he's madly in love with you based on looks, Ginny." Hermione said sharply. "He doesn't even know you, personality wise, don't you see? You've become so closed up and quiet around him- I doubt he would even recognize your voice!"

I was silent.

"If you want Harry to notice you, you're going to have to speak up around him, Ginny. I know you, and personally, I think you and Harry would be a rather good match, but Harry will have no idea unless you show him what you're really like!"

"You- you think we'd make a good match?" I asked hopefully, knowing how pathetic I sounded and not really caring much.

"I think you may be just what he needs." She said thoughtfully. "But you really need to-"

"Talk." I nodded. "Is- is that all?"

Hermione studied me again, then paused. "A boyfriend or two, that might help. Give him something to be jealous about- a little jealousy never hurts."

I grin, thinking about my brother. Perhaps Hermione Granger really does know what she's talking about.


End file.
